Sacrifice
by alice.ou84
Summary: John Watson is the most important person to Sherlock Holmes. When John is taken by Moriarty, Sherlock makes his greatest sacrifice. Oneshot. Warning: Death Fic


**Title: Sacrifice**

**Author: Alice**

**Disclaimer: The creation of Sherlock Holmes of course belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and it's current popular incarnation, to the crew of BBC.**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: When John Watson is kidnapped by Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes makes his greatest sacrifice. One shot. Warning: Angst and Tragedy. **

* * *

The water is cold.

It was winter in England and the water temperature is practically arctic. The wind chill hits his skin, creeping beneath his coat and scarf. He shivers as the cold invades his body. Against all instincts, his fingers fumble clumsily with his outerwear, pilling them off layer by layer until only his shirt and trousers remain.

Sherlock Holmes takes a moment to look at the still figure that is John Watson.

Just a moment.

A moment while sentiment takes over him, all consuming.

_The best and bravest man I know._

John Watson. He had made his first and last vow in his honour. Promising to always be there for him and Mary.

John Watson. His best friend. A suitable replacement for his skull, capable of responding and redirecting his sometimes sociopathic behaviour and misguided advice.

John Doctor, a man who craves danger, but whom, above all else, save lives. A man the world needs.

John Watson, who now looked utterly defeated, his hands and feet bound to an isolated pillar some hundred meters off the beach. A prisoner awaiting a watery death. Except that Sherlock was not about to let this happen.

Moriarty had won. He had won because Sherlock had allowed him to.

Caring is not an advantage. Nonetheless, the years have seen him subscribe to it.

The tide was coming.

Within 30 minutes, John would be dead, drowned by the ruthless sea around him. His timing had been impeccable.

A game.

Moriarty's cruel game. John had been gagged, drugged and taken from his home with Mary some hours ago. A frantic Mary, with child, had called him, distressed and crying, begging for help. There was no hesitation on his behalf. Of course, it was all meant for him in the end.

A lock and chain bounds John Watson to a pillar situated some 100 meter from the shore. It had taken 4 hours to identify John's location, and another hour before Moriarty had let him in on the code and a little secret. Life was never simple. A life for a life. One life for another. Upon entering the code, the lock will open. There is a twist of course, Moriarty's games is never as it seems. The lock seeks another prisoner. If not reengaged in 5 seconds, an explosive device will be detonated.

His phone rings. It was Mycroft, ever reliable when Sherlock finds himself stuck in a precarious situation. This time, he doubts even Mycroft will be enough.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said and notes that his voice sounded far away. He wonders if Mycroft detected the same distance in his words.

"Sherlock, don't do anything stupid." A pause from his older brother. "I'm on my way."

"Don't waste your time, Myc." Sherlock felt a lump in his throat, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in an attempt to hide the quiver in his voice. He could hear Mycroft breathing heavily into the phone, no doubt in a hurry to find him and John. He remained silent for some moments, savouring their last exchange.

"Sherlock, don't do it."

"I have no choice, Mycroft." Sherlock heard a sharp exhale of breath, and the unmistakable frenzy of orders from Mycroft requesting the vehicle he had just entered to disregard all speed limits.

"Damn it, just hold on!" Mycroft voice bought a strange reassurance to him, and Sherlock was grateful for this. He hoped that grief would not overwhelm his brother. The invisible pressure of being the British government, coupled with ongoing weigh issues, would do his health no good.

"Please, keep an eye out for each other." The slightest of pauses. "Goodbye, brother."

He hangs up and turns his phone off before Mycroft could say another word.

With no further hesitation, Sherlock walks into the frigid waters. Taking a deep breath to fill his lungs, he dives underwater, entering its dark abyss. The sea water was murky and uninviting. He wonders how long John had been out here, alone and scared. John must be saved. He swims with confident strokes towards John, glimpsing his lonely figure every time he surfaced for air. It takes Sherlock several minutes of precious time before he reaches John's side.

The water was lapping at John's shoulders, the waves intermittently forcing surges of sea water into his face. Due his taller stature, Sherlock was able to stand comfortably with the water level at chest height. He rapidly examines John, ensuring no further injuries to his doctor. Sherlock frowned as he noted a graze on his left cheek and a laceration on his forehead. Nothing a few stitches can't fix. John would survive. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sherlock! Jesus! I thought I was a goner." John's face lit up upon seeing him and Sherlock realises it was all worth it. "How did you know I was missing?"

Sherlock felt his lips turn upwards. Mary Watson, ever reliable in their mutual wish to protect the man they both care for. "Mary called. She's very worried about you."

"Oh god, of course she would be. Is she alright?" John said, shaking his head.

"Yes."

John laughed nervously. "Tell me you know how to get me out of this." There was fear in John's voice. He couldn't bear it.

Sherlock did something he had never done before. He hugged John, trembling, tied to a pole in the middle of the bay with the ocean coming in, threatening to kill them both.

He responded the only way he knew how. "Of course I do. I'm Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

Sherlock's sacrifice.

John Watson did not see it coming the second time either.

Sherlock had smiled at him, his voice deep and reassuring. He was Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective. After all, he was the only one in the world and he was invincible. John failed to see it coming, just as he had failed to foresee his fall from the roof of St Bart's and the 2 years thereafter where John had believed him dead. Later, he had found out through Mycroft that Sherlock's actions had kept him, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade safe but not without sacrifice at his expense.

John watched as Sherlock dived under the water, now up to his chin, to decode the lock chaining him to the floor of the ocean. He was Sherlock Holmes, an unstoppable force. Always present to save the day. Not a hero. Just his best friend.

It took longer than John expected and he was ashamed to feel panic rise in his chest. Finally, Sherlock surfaced, his curls plastered against his forehead, looking more vulnerable than John had ever seen him.

"OK, you're free."

John rejoiced. "Thank god!" He tested his freedom by swimming several feet away from the pillar and was relieved to find that he was indeed spared from an imminent watery death.

John couldn't wait to reach shore. Turning back, he indicated his head towards the empty beach. "Let's go."

Silence. Sherlock did not move. His eyes did not meet John's.

"Sherlock...Let's go." John frowned; he was close to hypothermia and would appreciate a quick departure from these waters.

"John." Sherlock said softly. John tried to read his expression, noting that his pupils wide and dilated. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the incoming ocean. Finally he spoke again. "I can't."

"What's going on?" John asked, demanding an answer. There was a look in Sherlock's face that he could not read and it scared him.

"It was Moriarty-" Sherlock began.

"Moriarty! God damn it! It's all just a game to him, isn't it?" John yelled, unable to control his anguish. The mention of the involvement from Sherlock's arch nemesis sent a shiver down his spine. "What does he want this time?"

Sherlock looks back at him and shrugged. "Who knows."

"Ok, never mind. Do you have a plan?"

"Yes."

Sherlock always had a plan.

"Right, let's go then. I'm freezing!" Again, John moves to swim away and once again, he turns back to find that Sherlock had not moved. Sherlock stood, where he had been several minutes ago, now the water was up to his shoulders. "Sherlock?"

"John, you're not hearing me. I. Can't. Leave." He articulated the last three words slowly, and John was alarmed to see wetness tainting his grey blue eyes. Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again. "Moriarty did not simply give me the codes required to release you, there is a bomb underneath the surface of the sand, if the lock is not reengaged, we would all be dead."

"It was between me and you, and I choose you."

The realization of Sherlock's sacrifice dawned on John, its reality pummelling him until he was broken.

"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" John cried, his voice loud and raw in this remote part of England. He spun around, his legs treading water, his eyes frantically searching for help. No one heard of course, no one but his stupid, best friend. "Sherlock Holmes! Do you understand what this will do to me?"

The water reaches Sherlock's chin and he stands on tiptoes to keep the sea from invading.

"I'm sorry, John." His voice trembles ever so slightly. "Don't be mad. I was...selfish-" A wave crashes into Sherlock's face and he splutters before speaking again. "I figured you would cope with my death a lot better than I would have been able to cope with yours. You have Mary, and the baby-a family...so to me, it's all worth it..."

"Oh my god, Sherlock." The shock pierces John like a knife through his heart. Sherlock Holmes, his best friend, companion and partner had chosen to die so that he could live. But how could he bear to live without him? No one had bothered to ask him that. No one had bothered to check whether he would cope.

The water reaches Sherlock's lips and he tilts his head, a gasp escaping him.

His hands trembles and John grips him tightly.

"Leave. I don't want you to see me die." Sherlock gasps. "You're going to get hypothermic."

"Sherlock, I'm not leaving you." John said, tears stinging his eyes.

"John. It's. Ok." Sherlock gasped. Each word, in between mouthfuls of seawater.

John moves to dive underneath the waves, his last ditch attempt to release the lock around Sherlock's ankles. "John, Don't-"The water reaches Sherlock's nose, silencing him.

There is a gurgling noise as Sherlock's airway is fully submerged.

John watched in horror as several air bubbles rose to the surface. There was an overwhelming silence. Only the gentle lapping of sea water.

"NO!"

Taking several deep breaths to fill his lungs, John allows himself to sink beneath the surface.

Sherlock is there, just beneath the surface of the water. His face is surprisingly serene and his eyes meet John's. John looks at the lock chaining his best friend to the ocean floor and felt hatred and despair explode within him. He duck dives, his hands desperately pulling at the lock around Sherlock's ankles. Of course, it would never give way.

His lungs burning, desperate for oxygen, John was forced to resurface. He takes another deep breath and sinks below the waterline.

He sees Sherlock. John moves in, his lips touching Sherlock as he exhaled air into his best friend's airways. He does this several times, surfacing to catch his breath, before he felt firm hands on his shoulders pushing him away.

Sherlock was shaking his head. _No. _He Mouthed._ Useless. Leave me._

_Of course he was right. _

John stops the tears and salt water stinging his eyes. He stays close to Sherlock, holding him.

Some seconds pass and John watches the change in Sherlock's face.

His eyes widened, a look of panic creeping in. An air bubble escape his lips and he reaches out to hold onto John's shirt, clawing blindly at his chest.

John pulls him into an embrace, holding him tight. He felt Sherlock stiffen then flail against him, his body trembling. Above them, the sea water is disturbed by the commotion just beneath its surface. He fought longer than John expected. Then, the unmistakable inhale of water. Then, silence as he stopped moving, limp in John's arms.

John Watson. He was a broken man. He allowed himself to rise to the surface of the sea and saw that black cars have arrived. He saw Mycroft Holmes running into the waters, shouting words he could not hear, all pretences forgotten as he swam towards them. He saw men, already in diving gear enter the water shortly after, their final bid to save them.

It was all useless.

Because Sherlock Holmes was dead.

* * *

Someone had once told him that as one is dying, their live flashes before their eyes. Sherlock had laughed, doubting any truth in their words. For once in his life, he was ready to admit that he had been a fool. It was true, but strangely comforting nonetheless.

He saw Redbeard, running towards him across a lawn of evergreen grass, his barking a happy reminder of childhood.

He saw Mycroft, his stupid umbrella and the mandatory Christmas feasts, a necessary tradition uniting them as family.

He saw John and Mary on their wedding day, happy, the sign of three so obvious if one stopped to observe. He, the third wheel, but never forgotten or relinquished, their best man.

He saw john, leaning heavily on his walking stick, so astounded by his brilliance during their first meeting at St Bart's. Then their mutual love for adventure took hold and John ran, his walking stick long forgotten in Angelo's.

John looks back at him now, his expression a canvas of pain. He was close to him, closer then they had ever been. They only had the friendship and the miracle that had bought them together. Even in this hour of darkness, Sherlock wanted to offer him some comfort, but time and circumstances prevented him from doing so.

He felt himself fading. His eyesight deteriorate, the cold enveloping him in an impenetrable darkness. Deprived of oxygen, Sherlock felt the air hunger deep within his core, overwhelming every cell in his body.

His last thoughts pummelled him in a fierce and confounding way.

John Watson.

John.

Finally, he relented because, in this case, sacrifice meant succumbing to darkness, but also the light of knowing that his friend was going to live.

* * *

That was a bit sad. Hope you enjoyed it.

Alice

p.s. I am ecstatic to hear that Sherlock has been renewed for season 4 and that a special episode will also be made. Yay!


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